


Clueless

by TheYahwehDance



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: All travel times and locations are accurate, Big dumb devil, Chloe is Josh, Chole Decker is a Saint - Freeform, Count the Clueless references, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Inspired by Clueless (1995), Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) is a Dork, Lucifer is Cher, Not a Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 11:50:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18151505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheYahwehDance/pseuds/TheYahwehDance
Summary: Chloe suspects that Lucifer might be hiding a secret. As if!In a show about the devil solving crime in LA, travel times and car trouble is the biggest leap of faith. And how else to better illustrate that than a Lucifer/Chloe homage to the 1995 masterpiece of American cinema, Clueless.





	Clueless

When he double parks his Corvette, Chloe thinks he’s being a dick on purpose. Showing off in the way that men do, trying to show the extent to which the Rules Do Not Apply. He double parks on Melrose, blocking traffic in the right lane and generally making a mess of things despite three open parking spaces on the street around them.

“Lucifer.”

“Yes, Detective?”

She closes her eyes in frustration. This man is going to be the death of her.

“You can’t double park your car on Melrose.”

“Of course I can, darling, I just did.” He smirks, obviously proud of himself for the oldest dad joke in book.

“Hey, yeah, no. It’s illegal. Not to mention rude and very dangerous. Seriously, just pull up and park the car. I’ll wait for you.” She gestures 200 ft down the road to an open space.

He furors his eyebrows and tilts his head like she just told him to do handstand. Then, as comprehension dawns, he smiles in a serious way and guides her to the coffee shop, opening the door and ushering her inside.

“Detective. You need to focus on the case and you are wasting valuable time. Don’t you ever think about your job? Come now, we have a suspect to interview.”

She honestly did not think it was possible for a single person to be this annoying.

–

The next time it happens is downtown in front of MOCA. They are investigating a murderous tax fraud case and the museum is close enough to the precinct to justify stopping by and checking the alibi in person.

He meets her there, pulling up the Corvette to the valet stand, it’s clear he’s done this before, and hands the valet a crisp $100 bill and the keys. The valet is unphased, this is LA and fancy jerks in fancy cars do this shit all the time. But this is her fancy jerk and it’s not okay, especially during work hours.

“Lucifer!” she hisses and her lips tighten.

“Oh Detective!” As he walks up he notices her exasperation and his grin gets bigger, wolfish, “I don’t know what I did but if it means you are going to be angry with me I would like to do more of it.” His voice drops an octave, “It’s quite the turn on.”

“Oh my God Lucifer,” she hand waves his protest at the G word, “first off, gross. Secondly, you cannot valet your car for a work interview. It’s really unprofessional and the station will not reimburse you if you keep this up.”

“The station? Why would the station need to reimburse me?” 

Why does she put up with this?

“Okay, I get it. You’re rich” he leers, “and you don’t care, but seriously Lucifer. This is only going to take a few minutes, we are just confirming an alibi, it doesn’t make any sense to valet. And there are tons of spots.” She gestures to a few open parking spots across the street.

“Ah, I understand,” he raises his hand to quiet her, strolls over to the valet attendant and hands him another $100 bill, “please make sure the car is waiting out front, we won’t be long.”

Her mouth opens in protest, but she can tell he is visibly pleased with himself for handling the situation so well. She takes a deep breath instead. Pick your battles, Chloe, she thinks, pick your battles.

—

Three weeks later they have a lead and of course it’s in Bel Air. It’s 4pm, she’s halfway through her shift the coffee machine is broken and now she has to drive an hour out of her way to interview a $100/minute lawyer with an anger problem. She stands up still typing out an email when a piping hot cup of coffee is placed on the table, her frustratingly considerate partner jingles his keys in her face.

“I’ll drive, love” he says, and she’s too drained to protest.

“Sure. Thanks, Lucifer”

—

They’re driving back from the interview on side roads, chatting about nothing in particular, when he blows through a stop sign at 30 mph.

“Holy shit!”

“What? Did you see a Kardashian!? You know who the murderer is?” a beat, “You suddenly realized I am The Devil?” he chuckles at his own joke.

“Lucifer! That was a stop sign!”

“What?” He glances back behind him, “I totally paused.”

She looks at him, mouth agape.

“You can’t do that!”

“Why not?” He looks hurt and she wants to hit her head on the glovebox. How do men control the world when they are So. Incredibly. Dumb?

“You know what, how about this.” She glances at him but refuses to take her eyes off the road or release her grip on the car, “when you are driving me or Trixie, you follow traffic rules. Stop signs, street  
lights, speed limits, et cetera”

He hums with irritation, “And just when I thought things were picking up, Detective. Why have you got to be so bloody boring all the time?” But he slows, lightly taps the breaks at the next stop sign, and looks proud of his immense restraint.

One day, she thinks to herself, she’s going to slap that stupid grin off his stupid, handsome face.

—-

They are on Fairfax a week before Passover and there’s no parking within half a mile. Lucifer keeps insisting that they can valet the car or double park it and Chloe, on her last thread of sanity, is close to agreeing when a car’s lights go on in front of them and slowly starts backing up.

“Oh oh! There!” she slaps his arm and points to the Prius that is slowly extracting itself from the parking spot, “There, perfect! Put your blinker on, we’ve got it!”

He looks amused at her enthusiasm but doesn’t put the blinker on and rolls past the space. Chloe groans in frustration.

“No Detective, not for me I’m afraid”. Did he really just? Oh no. This is never going to end. Her life is going to be circling the block looking for a parking space. Forever.

“You aren’t the devil.” She squeezes her eyes shut and tilts her head back in frustration. He looks at her, a hint of a smile forming, “You’re a princess.” His smile drops “Princess Lucifer. Too fancy for street parking. Only valet for the Princess.” She opens one eye enough to see him ruffle and scoff. It’s pretty satisfying to be able to irritate him like that.

“Close, detective. I am a Prince and a King. As if I ever wanted the titles. And I am not too good for street parking but right now I require a valet”, his voice is clipped and he pronounced it ‘val-et’ like he’s in on the BBC and not trying to find a decent bagel in mid city.

She giggles. A prince, yeah, okay. 

“Ah. There we go” he pulls into the valet, going through the money, keys, smiles routine, helps her out of the car, “Isn’t that so much easier?” He smiles at her but it’s tempered. He’s still annoyed.

She raises her eyes up, God give me the strength to deal with this pompous ass.

—- 

Shit. Shit damn F*ck it all to hell.

A flat tire in The Valley. Who the F does she know in Granada Hills?

She was interviewing a grad student but they started chatting about table top games and she got distracted and now it’s 9pm and she’s stuck in Granada-f*cking-Hills with a flat tire. Thank god Trixie is with Dan tonight, otherwise this would be awful. It’s already awful, but that would make it worse.

She pulls out her phone and sighs. 20% battery. Perfect. This is the perfect night. She scrolls through her contacts thinking of who she could call that would a) actually show up and b) actually show up at a reasonable time.

Nope. No way. She can’t call Lucifer. He’s probably doing beautiful people things with other beautiful people and he’s in West Hollywood and probably drunk. She thinks about him wandering around his club, his shirt unbuttoned just so, schmoozing with startlets, singing to them, his hand on their lower back…

Fuck it.

“Detective!” He sounds distracted. This isn’t going to work. She spent her phone battery on a damned booty call.

“Detective, just a minute. Hold on. Hi yes, Elton, no no no, it’s all wonderful, remarkable, really, I just have to take this phone call. Work? Yes, it’s a work call. Sorry dear, no, you too Christian. I know, deeply unfair. My genuine apologies.” There is the sound of sheets rustling and people talking in the background.

Oh my god, she rubs her eyes, he was having sex. What the hell. 

“Detective! I’m all yours.”

“Um, no actually, it’s okay. If you’re busy I can call someone else it’s just my phone’s about to die so I need to go.”

“I’m never too busy for you. How can I help?”

She cringes. She knows it’s a big ask.

“Um, well, I had an interview in Granada Hills and I got a flat tire. And I don’t have a spare and my phone’s about to die and I-”

He cuts her off

“I’ll be there in 20 minutes”

“Lucifer. It’s the Valley, where the 405 meets the 5. It’s gonna take an hour at least. You can’t even dress yourself in 20 minutes.”

“Everywhere in LA is 20 minutes away, darling. Text me your address”

This guy. What would it be like to live with that type of confidence, that willful ignorance of how the world actually works?

“Sure. Okay. Thanks, Lucifer.”

“Stay safe, Detective. 20 minutes.”

To her complete and utter shock, he shows up 20 minutes later. Well, 25, but it’s impressive, annoyingly so. She’s relieved he’s there but decides to ask him anyway.

“How did you do that? Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“A watch doesn’t go with this outfit, Detective, clearly you can see that.” He spreads his arms and invites her to asses his ensemble, dodging the question entirely, “and your eyes are going to get stuck like that if you keep rolling them.”

—-

If it’s not a perfect night, it does end up being pretty good. On the way back they get off the Hollywood freeway at Vine and go to a 24-hour diner off Franklin. There is a mostly empty spacious parking lot but he valets the car anyway. They sit at the counter and he orders a milkshake and a plate of fries for himself and she gets a burger.

“Can I ask you something?” she asks, stealing a fry and dipping it in his shake.

“Of course. Anything, detective” The intensity of the response is a little much but she decides to roll with it.

“And you’ll tell me the truth? No macho nonsense?”

“Always the truth. And I have never in my life needed to resort to ‘macho nonsense’”

“Do you know how to park?” he cocks his head, “I mean, do you know how to park a car? Like pull into a space, parallel park, back into a space, all of that?”

“What’s the point? Everywhere you go has valet.”

She blinks, staring at him. How is he still alive?

“So you are the Devil?”

“Yes”

“And a human male?”

“Male, yes. Human, no”

“And you’ve lived in LA for what, 6, 7 years?”

“Yes”

“And you don’t know how to park?”

“Well, I’m sure I could figure it out,” He looks a little indignant at this line of questioning

“Lucifer.”

She brings her hands to his face, holding him still and meeting his eyes.

He beams at her touch.

“Yes, Detective?”

He is grinning like a damn Labrador retriever, all big brown eyes and sloppy joy. This man who says he is the devil, who somehow is immune to traffic, who runs an exclusive night club, who can single handedly throw a man through a window, who just left a threesome to come pick her up from the Valley, does not know how to park his own car.

“You are so freaking clueless.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fandom is the tits. Seriously, I've never met a nicer group of random people online and you should all give yourselves a hug for being so great. A huge shout out to the lovely Arlome for the inspiration and brilliant Alecto for the Ao3 account. 
> 
> Final Point: Lucifer's spirit animal is Cher Horowitz and you can't convince me otherwise


End file.
